All In Life
by fyd818
Summary: Six episode additions, RononTeyla centric moments. Next in the SAWS, Spanky a Week Summer.
1. Duet

Disclaimer: I do not own _Stargate: Atlantis_, nor will I _try_ to lay claim to it. That would put me in a lot of trouble with the fans, not to mention the authorities. (Though, if I did own _Atlantis_, Ronon and Teyla would be happily married with two pretty babies and a dog.) I am making no monetary gain from this venture, so please don't sue me!

Summary: Five episode additions, RononTeyla centric moments. Next in the SAWS, Spanky a Week Summer.

Rating: T

Pairing: Ronon/Teyla

Warnings: Fluff; violence; slight sexual situation

Spoilers: _Duet_; _Aurora_; _Lost Boys_; _The Hive_; & _Echoes_

Title: _All In Life_

Author: fyd818

Part 1/6

Author's note: This fic is a five-moments Ronon/Teyla – thing – that occurred to me one day. It starts out _kind of_ canon, but I assure you it very much diverges later, though five episodes are highlighted in this fic. This is one of my _favorite_ scenes from _Duet_ – an extended edition. -wink- I hope you enjoy this next installment of SAWS (please check my profile for a link to find out more about it, if you're interested), and thanks for reading!

Author's note 2: Okay, so I know I promised I wouldn't post anything till I come back from vacation, but I already had this written, and I had to keep an eye on SAWS -- and I posted this for this week, which is close to over without a fic to cover for it. So this was originally going to be next one for later -- but it is my new one now. LOL I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading! The next part should be up pretty soon!

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All In Life

_fyd818_

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Part I

_**-Duet-**_

Leaning in the doorway of Teyla Emmagan's quarters, watching her stretch, Ronon Dex found a new appreciation for the Atlantians' having brought him here. He'd rarely been in the presence of civil humans – let alone women – in seven years. At this point, at least, he wasn't willing to sacrifice whatever fragile thing he had with Teyla, with these people, by telling her his admiration for her was one of the reasons he'd come to Atlantis.

But, audience of Marines behind him or not, he wasn't past looking and admiring – just for a minute.

Teyla must have sensed his presence, for she lifted her head and upper body to look at him. Her eyes went wide, her body language screaming surprise.

"I came to apologize," Ronon said without preamble. He'd found himself to be an ardent admirer of her talents in the art of Bantos sparring – and, admittedly, caught up in the excitement of fighting with her. It had been a very long time since he'd had someone to challenge him in a non-lethal match. It had also been a bit of a blow to his ego, this little woman so easily keeping up with him. . . Frustration had gotten the better part of him, and he _was_ slightly ashamed. He no more wanted to imperil their friendship (if that's what it was) with this than with his admitting he (maybe) liked her.

Her delicately shaped dark eyes blinked once, twice. Perhaps in confusion, perhaps in surprise. She obviously hadn't been expecting him to come, or maybe not to come to _apologize_. In truth, had it been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have searched them out to apologize, just done it the next time he'd seen them. But there was something about her. . . She made him do things out of the ordinary.

"Uh – come in, Ronon," she said. She motioned with her left hand for him to enter, then shifted it to splay across her chest. "Please, sit down."

For a long moment, Ronon steadily held Teyla's gaze. Then he went to sit in the chair she'd indicated as she shifted to sit tailor-style on the bed, facing him. "Truly, there is no need to apologize," she said, sounding slightly out-of-breath. "It was – impressive." Once more Teyla's hand fluttered to her chest, and Ronon very carefully kept his eyes from following the movement. _That_ would certainly not help this already awkward situation.

Ronon shrugged off Teyla's words, unsure if they were meant as a compliment or not. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't accustomed to being put off balance, but Teyla Emmagan seemed to have an unsettling way of doing just that to him.

"How are you finding your training?" Teyla asked, obviously desperate to change the subject.

"Don't you mean my _test_?" Ronon challenged. He hadn't meant for the words to come out, but he _did_ mean them. Guards followed him everywhere he went; everyone watched his every move, as if expecting him to attack at any moment; he was met with suspicion and distrust everywhere he went. Past experience gave him no other explanation for this behavior. They _had_ to be testing him. And, if they deemed him unworthy of the trouble and their trust, Ronon would leave before he'd be kicked out. He was surprised to find that thought actually _hurt_.

Teyla cocked her head to the side, her eyes hurt. "Is _that_ what you think?" she asked softly. She seemed to be offended by the very idea.

"Am I wrong?" Now that they were on the subject, Ronon wasn't going to back down. The only iota of trust he'd been shown here came from Sheppard and Teyla, and only one of them seemed to trust him without limit. He had a feeling Teyla would be the only one willing to answer his questions truthfully, too.

Teyla sighed. Her emotional brown eyes studied his expression, as if in an attempt to understand what would possess him to ask such a question. Her hand dropped from her chest, then partly extended as if to reach out to him. But she only sighed again and dropped it into her lap, shaking her head. "It is difficult," she said at last. "They do not understand us – they do things differently here. It takes them much longer to trust."

Ronon _could_ sympathize with that. No matter what kindness they'd shown him, _he_ was having trouble trusting _them_, too. "Why did you stay?" he asked. He didn't have to ask: he knew she was different from the others. She had a deeper level of understanding about the Pegasus galaxy, about the threat of the Wraith, than the otherworlders who lived in the Ancestors' grand city. A part of him could connect to her in a way he knew he'd never find with any of the Earthlings, because as they sparred, he saw a shadow of his pain in her eyes. His question stemmed from a need to understand the situation, but also to get to know her better. He found her frustratingly enigmatic, but he yearned to find out more about her, to understand her better – even if he did already feel like he knew her, in a way.

Her well-shaped lips pursed, and once more she studied him thoughtfully. "My people are strong, and proud," she said at last. "But Atlantis, and these people, give us a hope where before there was none."

Nodding, Ronon conceded her point. No matter how little they seemed to understand – these blundering explorers, ignorant to the dangers even a simple question could bring – they _did_ have the drive and firepower need to perhaps give the Wraith a much-needed challenge.

Teyla leaned forward, capturing his attention again. "I believe you see it, too," she said. "Otherwise, you would have already left."

Maybe that's what it was – a subconscious feeling that there was something inherently _good_ about these people, despite their initial suspicion. He wasn't _just_ staying to be somewhere safe for once; for a chance at a new life; or even for getting to know Teyla better. These people, this place, offered him a chance for _real_ revenge, something he'd been longing for.

Now that this question had been answered, Ronon found himself being drawn in two different directions. Part of him wanted to go off by himself and think about all this, and the other part (the larger one, if he wanted to be honest) wanted to stay and talk to Teyla more. After being so long bereft of human contact, of conversation and just _company_, talking to Teyla was wonderful and awkward, all at once.

Teyla asked if he wanted to stay and talk then, and it was cinched. While going to make tea, she casually waved off Ronon's Marine escort, closing the door at the same time. Ronon was surprised: it was a large step of acceptance, of trust, for her to do so.

They spent almost the entire night drinking tea and discussing everything from worlds they'd visited to the Atlantians. Ronon was desperate to understand, and Teyla had a way of explaining things unique enough for him to get it. They very carefully avoided very personal things – such as their separate homeworlds, and their families. The more time they spent talking, the more Ronon relaxed.

When the sun began to stir from its home beneath the horizon, Ronon reluctantly left. As he rejoined his Marine escorts, he couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed at them.

Maybe he could make Atlantis home. And – maybe – he _could_ have a friendship with Teyla Emmagan.

_-End Part I-_


	2. Aurora

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 2/6

Author's note: Okay, I'm back from my trip! I'm positively exhausted, but I had a ton of fun. I had to bonk myself over the head when I remembered I wanted to update this last night. So here's part 2! This is a missing scene for _Aurora_ – and things are just getting started. LOL I hope you enjoy!

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Part II

_**-Aurora-**_

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"I don't _understand_ it." Ronon pushed off from the wall against which he'd been leaning and began to pace.

Teyla looked up from where she'd been thoughtfully staring down at one of the still, frozen Ancestors. "What?" she asked softly.

"How can they _stand_ to do this? For so many years? Just locked up in a little box, doing _nothing_?" For his whole life, moving was as necessary to his life as breathing, or eating, or sleeping. Doing _nothing_ was not written anywhere in his genetic code. For him, it was move or die, something which had only been reinforced by the past seven years.

Propping her back against the wall, Teyla slid down into a seated position. "They do not have a choice," she said softly.

_That_ derailed his thoughts. Pausing, Ronon spun to face her. "There's _always_ a choice," he muttered.

"This is the one the Ancestors chose." Teyla leaned her head back against the wall. "What must it be like – to have nothing solid? Nothing _real_? Only insubstantial dreams, memories of what used to be?"

Ronon crouched next to her, eyes on her solemn features. "It must be maddening."

Her lips twitched slightly. "I suppose it is not _all_ bad for them. Col. Sheppard said they are still intent on reaching home, in the simulation. That gives them a common goal, something for them to work on."

Leaping up, Ronon began to pace again. "But it's not _real_," he said, puzzled. "They're not getting anywhere. Surely they know this? In real life they're sitting dead in space."

Teyla's dark eyes followed his movements with unsettling serenity. He couldn't understand – it was always an enigma, a mystery. How could she stay so _calm_ all the time? "But it gives them something to do. It helps them stay focused on their mission, on their goal." At last she looked away, unsettled for the first time. "It gives them hope."

Ronon heard the falter in her tone. Hope was something beyond these Ancestors, now. They were all too old – none of them could come out of their chambers without dying. They would never live, breathe, see anything real again. They would never make it back home. He could sympathize with that, as much as he hated it. "It feels _wrong_," he said.

"What does?" Teyla opened her eyes.

"I don't know." He shrugged, feeling jittery. "Talking about them like they're not here. I know they can't hear us, they don't know we're here. But they're – they're _Ancestors_." Ronon motioned vaguely to the pod Teyla had been watching before.

"The Ancestors are not as unsullied as they once were." Only a slight taste of bitterness slipped into her tone. "To my people, perhaps. But I know too much about them now. They are nothing like I once thought."

Ronon remembered a few times he'd ranted and raved at them during his time as a Runner. His opinions of them had diminished greatly, too. "That's true," he agreed. "But it still feels _wrong_."

Teyla smiled. "It does. They built Atlantis, these great ships; they were the first to fight the Wraith. We have, perhaps, modeled ourselves after them in some ways."

"Fortunately not in all," Ronon added quickly.

She laughed, shattering their serious mood. "You know, Ronon, I think you could benefit greatly from meditation."

_As long as you're the one teaching me – maybe._ Ronon swallowed the thought before it could pass his lips. "Maybe," he said indecisively. "Someday."

"Hmm." Suddenly serious again, Teyla's dark eyes appraised him carefully. "If you would ever like to try—"

"You'll be the first person I'll come to," Ronon promised.

"Good." Teyla shifted. "Now, I believe we should have another look around the ship. I feel we missed something."

Ronon quickly offered his hand to pull her up. Her slender fingers curled around his, and he gently tugged to bring her to her feet. Once she was up, though, he allowed his hand to linger against hers a moment or two longer than strictly necessary. "After you," he said, motioning.

Teyla gave him a somewhat confused smile and went on ahead. Ronon hung back a moment, wondering if maybe he _could_ find it in him to slow down. For a little while, at least.

_-End Part II-_

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**Hannah 554: **Thank you! I've always wanted to write a scene for _that scene_ in _Duet_, and I figured – why not have it be the beginning of a relationship fic? I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the review!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Thank you! This story has gone through an insufferable amount of re-writes, so I really hope you enjoy the ending product (and I think you'll _really_ enjoy the next chapter -wink-). I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the review! I'm off to read yours SAWS!


	3. The Lost Boys

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 3/6

Author's note: One of _the best_ Ronon/Teyla flirting moments ever, in my opinion: The Salad Scene, circa _Lost Boys_ – it goes a tad AU from here_. A la_ – less Sheppard in this version. I will warn you, though – this chapter is what earned the "T" rating for this fic – it gets a little steamy. Just wanted to warn you. So – I hope you enjoy! -wink-

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Part III

_**-The Lost Boys-**_

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_She punched me!_

Ronon watched as a smirk transformed Teyla's formerly grumpy expression. And she not only punched him – to make it worse, now she actually laughed at him! He swiped his fingers over his mouth, looking to see if she'd drawn blood. He saw nothing on his fingers; but still his anger burst from a simmer to a boil within him.

Teyla's expression turned wary as, evidently, she read his intentions in his eyes. Before she could react further, Ronon made use of his long arms, reaching across the table, latching onto her slender wrist, and yanking her clear across the table. Plates and cups, along with their contents, scattered with a loud clatter. Her petite body hit the floor when he released her, but she instantly rolled back up onto her feet. A challenging laugh puffed out of her mouth as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, small hands curling into fists.

Ronon shifted into a stance to match hers. If she wanted to fight, fine. He was more than willing to give her one she wouldn't soon forget. Dimly, the rational part of him – buried under an avalanche of Wraith enzyme-induced primal rage – tried to tell him this was all wrong. He and Teyla were really good friends, teammates; they shouldn't have the least desire to go all out in an attempt to hurt each other. But he _wanted_ to – and he could see the same fire in her eyes. They _wanted_ to fight, so they were _going_ to fight.

Teyla grinned again, that same sneaky little smirk she'd gotten right after she punched him. She threw the first punch again, hand flashing forward and back so quickly he almost missed the movement. He definitely felt her knuckles rake across his cheek, though. From deep in his chest, he let out a distinctly predatory growl as he punched her back just as hard. She absorbed the hit, but at least he'd wiped that smug look from her face. Then it turned into a free-for-all; each punching and blocking with amazing speed, neither making any attempt to hold back, the fight escalating in intensity. Abruptly changing tactics, Ronon caught Teyla's arms just above the elbows. Gripping them tightly so she couldn't get away, he yanked her right up against his chest. "That the best you got?" he taunted.

She glared at him. A minute shift in her balance warned him of her intentions. With a quick twist of his hips, he managed to avoid her upward jabbing knee. The blow missed her intended target, instead sliding along the outside of his upper thigh with bruising force. "Let go!" she growled, her chest heaving against his.

"_Make_ me." Ronon leaned forward, smacking her lips with a quick kiss. The scent of her filled his nostrils: Even sweaty, she smelled incredibly good. _Deliciously_ good, in fact. Curiosity suddenly surged up in him. If she smelled that good, what would she _taste_ like? On impulse, he dipped his head and traced her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Fire exploded from the point of contact, spreading rapidly through his veins into the rest of his body. He did it again, more lingeringly this time. His head began to buzz, his earlier rage transforming into something else entirely.

A sudden sharp pain on the top edge of his ear broke Ronon's concentration. He jerked back, dropping his hold on her at the same time as his hand flew up to the side of his head. "You _bit_ me!" he hollered, glaring down at her in disbelief.

Teyla stared defiantly back up at him, the torchlight shimmering from her sweat-slick skin. The fire in her eyes smoldered with a darker intensity. Her lips parted. Making a noise deep in her throat, she jumped at him, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist at the same time she drove her fingers deep into his dreadlocked hair. Wrenching his face upward, she mashed her lips against his. Ronon staggered slightly, one arm automatically encircling her waist as the other went around her shoulders. He tasted blood: hers, his, he didn't know, didn't especially care as his whole existence drew down to this moment, and the woman clasped so tightly to him he couldn't tell if it was his heart he felt beating or hers; his own breath filling his lungs, or hers. . .

Cold water cascaded over Ronon from his left, drenching him and Teyla equally – also very effectively drenching what had been building between them. As she shrieked and gasped breathlessly, twisting in his hold, he swore violently. Setting her shakily on her feet, he swept a furious look toward the entrance to this inner cavern.

_Sheppard!_

The Atlantian colonel stood in the doorway, an empty bucket in his hands. His eyebrows were hovering around his hairline; though his lips were pressed flat together, it was obvious they were trying to twitch. But was it in anger, or amusement? Ronon couldn't tell.

Turning his gaze back to Teyla's face, he could see the same confusion – the same anger at being interrupted – he felt.

He was falling for Teyla, fast and hard – it was unexplainable, but there it was.

But it also scared him. What would this do to their friendship?

_-End Part III-_

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**Hannah554**: Thank you! When I was writing the chapter, I really had to think about Ronon, the essential things that make his character – and how Ronon is always moving, even when sitting still – I felt the need to mention that, so I'm glad you liked it. I think you'll really like this part – I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for the review!

**TubaPrincess**: Thanks! Me too. I've never really done a string of episode additions, and I kind of wanted to, so I did. I'm really glad you've liked the first two, and I hope you enjoy this one! Actually, no, I hate camping. LOL I'm just not an outdoors person. I went to spend the July 4th weekend with my best friend. Thank you so much for the review – I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Thank you! I love Ronon's character – he's just so energetic! He's always moving and doing things, but I love how he kind of mellows out around Teyla. I think she's a very nice influence on him. I just love these two. I _really_ hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the review! -hugs-


	4. The Hive

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 4/6

Author's Note: This part is a missing scene for _The Hive_. It picks up right after Ronon says the line which I have used as the first for this chapter. I hope you enjoy this installment!

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Part IV

_**-The Hive-**_

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If it distracts you, clear your mind of it. If it fuels your anger – use it.

It hadn't been that long since Ronon said those words to Teyla. She'd started pacing then, back and forth motions in front of the cell door which were making him jittery. _Most of that is probably the enzyme – or lack thereof,_ he reminded himself. At this point in his life, he had a lot of fuel for his anger. He wondered what she'd find to fuel herself.

Of all the things the Wraith could do for torture, Ronon wondered if perhaps they'd picked the most pleasant and the worst, all in one. Sticking him – alone – in cell with Teyla – it had to be the ultimate of _all_ torture. Maybe that was part of his fuel. . .

"Are you mad at me?" he ventured at last.

Teyla turned from her distracted pacing. "Why would I be mad?" she looked puzzled.

Unbidden, heat pulsed up his neck and onto his face. He felt like a beacon now. "Well – I don't know. Just – back at Ford's— I wasn't exactly on my best behavior. Usually – I do behave better than that, honest," he mumbled. Shifting his gaze away from hers, he waited for her to react.

Her soft footsteps moved across the cell; out of the corner of his eye, he watched her sit down again. "Nor was I," she admitted softly. "I think – maybe – we might have—" She bit her lower lip guiltily. "I apologize if I offended you in any way." Her formerly pallid complexion flushed, making her skin seem closer to the normal color.

Ronon snorted softly, then realized she was serious. "Wait – why are you apologizing? I'm the one who started it."

Teyla folded her lips and rolled her eyes. "That is true – but I did not have to _continue_ it."

_True._ Swallowing back his agreement, he shrugged. "No harm done?" He stuck out his hand, hoping she'd take it. "Still friends?"

A brief struggle flared in her eyes. Her shoulders seemed to slump a little, and her smile was forced when she took his hand. "Friends," she agreed.

They lapsed into silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. At last Ronon couldn't take the quiet any longer. "We could finish what we started earlier, you know."

Teyla's eyes went wide. She stared at him openmouthed, expression a mix of confusion and something else not quite identifiable.

Ronon realized how that could be taken, considering their preceding conversation. "Oh. _Oh!_ No, no, not that. Sorry." That heat in his face was back. "No – um, I mean – planning our escape?" he finished weakly. _Could this get any _more_ awkward?_

"Oh. Yes. I apologize." Teyla looked away, her fingers nervously plucking at the fabric of his coat. He'd halfway forgotten his earlier action: waking up from being stunned (again) to find Teyla passed out as well. He'd laid her on the single bench in the cell; dissatisfied with the arrangement, he'd tucked his coat under her head for a pillow. "Well – how much farther past _create a distraction_ can we plan?"

"Neither of us are thinking well at the moment," he agreed. _And _that_ is painfully obvious._ The last he didn't say. "Obviously we gotta find Sheppard – and a way out." He wondered if he should mention Ford. It seemed to be a sore subject with her.

Teyla seemed to be holding her breath. When she realized he wasn't going to say more, she subtly breathed again. "Yes. Perhaps Col. Sheppard will be able to find the Dart in which we came."

"That'd be nice."

Another uneasy silence fell between them. Suddenly he was _very_ aware of how close Teyla was. This time he was the one to jump up and pace to the back corner of the cell, putting as much space between them as the cramped space allowed. _Friends_, he reminded himself. This certainly wasn't the time to realize he had feelings of a certain kind for Teyla.

She gazed at him from the corner of her eye, seeming just as discomfited as he. "I wonder how long it will be before they come back." She seemed desperate to make conversation.

Ronon swallowed, vowing to do better this time at protecting her. Getting shot right off typically didn't help the situation. "I don't know. They're probably trying to draw out the tension." _They're doing a mighty good job of it – and they don't even realize._

Teyla turned her face away, toward the door. "Yes," she said noncommittally. "That seems likely."

Utilizing the moment, Ronon scrubbed his hands down his face. He was surprised to see they were shaking. _It's just the effects of the enzyme wearing off,_ he told himself. Now if only he could _make_ himself believe it.

"This is awkward," Ronon muttered, mostly to himself.

"It is." Teyla stood, and Ronon watched warily as she walked over to him. "When – we return to Atlantis, I think – we need to have a – _certain_ conversation." Biting her lower lip, she shyly peeked up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Ronon leaned back a little further into the wall, fists clenching together at his sides. "Yeah – I think that might be a good idea."

And then, to his wonder, he was saved. The piercing shriek of a Wraith alarm blasted through the cell from deep within the ship, forcing its way between them like a barrier. Ronon was both grateful and regretful for the sound. "Get ready," he told Teyla gruffly. As he headed for the cell door, Teyla nodded briskly and went to sit on the bench, tugging his coat just a little closer to her.

Ronon could feel Teyla's eyes on his back as he approached the door to the cell. He could already feel the emotion building in him. Did he have something to fight for? Oh, yes. _This_ would certainly help fuel him.

To his surprise, however, it was not a Wraith that appeared around the corner. It was Sheppard, and he skidded to a halt when he saw them. Ronon was pleased to see the colonel had a familiar weapon in his hand.

"Hey!" Ronon said. Teyla appeared at his left elbow, expression similar to his. Maybe they had a chance, after all.

"I'm going to bust you guys out of here!" Sheppard said cheerfully, as if it were no big deal. He turned toward the cell controls and lifted Ronon's blaster.

"If you don't mind," Ronon mumbled. The fingers of his right hand itched to reach out and snatch his weapon back. He wouldn't feel safe – like he could keep Teyla safe – until he had it back.

Perhaps Sheppard _didn't_ sense the tension in the air; if he did, he probably would identify it as anxiety to escape. Only a miniscule part of that was the cause, Ronon mused as he watched a shot from his blaster obliterate the controls.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ronon saw Teyla smirk up at him. He had a feeling he knew exactly what that meant – _we _will_ talk, and don't you forget it._

No worries about that.

The colonel stared at the controls for a second, mouth open. Shaking himself, he turned to hand Ronon's blaster back to him. "Gotta get myself one of these," he said in awe.

Ronon shook his head and went to get his coat, one ear tuned toward Sheppard and Teyla, the other for any signs of danger that might be approaching. "Where's Kanayo?" he heard Sheppard ask.

"He is dead," Teyla responded. Ronon couldn't find it in himself to feel the same gravity in her tone. Everything was a bit of a haze – he wasn't sure if it was caused by his heightened emotions or the fading effects of the Wraith enzyme. "Ford?" she demanded then.

Ronon swung his coat over one arm and shoulder. He had no time to put it all the way on; Teyla and Sheppard were already on their way out. He chased after them, switching his blaster to the other hand so he could finish putting on his coat as they ran.

"The last I saw he was okay, so I'm sticking with that," Sheppard replied over-the-shoulder.

The halls, ominously empty, flashed past as Sheppard led the way to the Dart bay. Ronon spun every few feet to make sure there were no Wraith behind them, trying to sneak along and wait for the right shot. A short time, which felt more like a long time, later, they arrived at the entrance to the bay.

Ronon paused directly behind Teyla, peering easily over her head at the open area beyond the doorway. Instead of seeing the ships all lined up in their little docking areas, he saw them screaming around inside, darting to and fro.

"The culling is beginning!" Teyla said in horror.

"We have to stop them," Sheppard said. His matter-of-fact manner was beginning to drive Ronon up the wall.

"_How?_" he demanded. Another quick glance down the hall showed no pursuit. That was unsettling enough in itself.

"Stay here," the colonel ordered. "When I give you my signal, get out in the open." With that enigmatic order given, he dashed off into the heart of the bay.

Teyla looked over her shoulder to him, and he shrugged. Apparently she didn't understand their team leader's orders any more than he did.

Then – for Fate and the Ancestors were fickle things – they had to wait again.

"We will make it, you know," Teyla said. Sheppard's mood seemed to have rubbed off on her.

Ronon didn't _want_ to argue with her. "I know." He reached out to briefly brush her arm. "We should get closer to the entrance to the bay."

Teyla nodded and took off. Ronon followed, casting glances over his shoulder. They were so _close_ – he wouldn't let anything mess it up now.

A single Dart broke from formation, gracefully swooping toward the little cubbyhole where Ronon and Teyla waited.

"Is that his signal?" An edge of hysteria was beginning to creep into Teyla's voice.

"It'd better be." Ronon reached out and caught her arm as she started to run off. "Wait." He quickly mashed his lips against hers. When he pulled away and saw her breathless expression, he offered her a half-apologetic grin. "Just in case," he said.

A matching expression formed on her face. She reached out, twining her fingers with his. Together they ran into the Dart bay – ready to be rescued or taken _together_.

_-End Part IV-_

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**TubaPrincess**: Yes, it is – though Ronon and Teyla aren't thinking so! Thanks! I could just imagine John doing that, tossing the water over the pair of them to "cool them down," so to speak. I know what you mean – friend time is _so_ hard to organize! It made the weekend we could spend together even more special. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Thank you! I'm really glad you liked it. It's the first really _intense_ romantic scene I've ever written, so I wasn't sure how it would turn out – so I was really nervous, though I had a lot of fun. So it makes me really happy that you liked it. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -hugs-


	5. Echoes

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 5/6

Author's Note: And so we come to "Echoes," one of the Spankiest episodes to date. I couldn't honestly do this little five-moments fic without working this episode in, could I? LOL This chapter picks up right after Teyla passes out in the infirmary, when Ronon is holding her hand. Since this is AU – I'm going to mix it up a bit, tweak it to how it could (should!) have been. I hope you enjoy this next-to-last installment – thank you for reading!

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Part V

_**-Echoes-**_

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The nurse told him what he _wanted_ to hear, he knew it. Her body language; her tone; the way her eyes skittered nervously around, looking anywhere but at him. . . He knew she was definitely relieved when she could finally – within polite boundaries – make her escape. She'd brought too much bad news to too many people today, and she knew it.

Ronon almost blindly reached for Teyla's slender hand as he sat down again. He could hear everything the nurse _didn't_ say – it was all there, written on Teyla's pale, pained features.

She was going to die.

"Why do you have to be so _stubborn_?" he demanded. The moment of anger he'd just allowed himself made him feel awful after the fact. He wished he could take the words back. Ronon looked away from her face, bringing up his other hand to cup her small, cold one in both of his. "I mean – why wouldn't you leave? Why do you insist on staying? You'd've been better if you'd went. . ." He trailed off. He didn't know that for sure. It made sense, but – he didn't know that. He didn't know if there was _anything_ that would make her better.

Playing with her slender fingers gave him a way to pass time – very little of it. Whenever something occurred to him, he told Teyla. He didn't know if she heard him or not, but he hoped she could. Even though it seemed like he and Teyla were floating in a world all their own – attached to but not a part of everything going on around them – the noises around them were still loud and somewhat intrusive. Teyla never showed any signs of hearing or acknowledging any of it – or him.

Ronon's stomach tightened. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't force the words past his throat. Even though it felt like their courtship – stemming from _the conversation_ they'd had a little over a year ago – had been going on for forever, at this moment it seemed like a painfully short time. Every day since he and Teyla had agreed to try to have a relationship, he'd thanked the Ancestors profusely for giving him this chance – but only a year? He refused to let that be it.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said weakly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I-I'm thankful for your patience, trying to teach me – _me!_ – meditation." His eyes drifted from her unresponsive face to the heart monitor, which beeped out its steady – though ever-so-slightly slowing – rhythm. That thin blue line seemed to be all that was separating Teyla from death. "I promise to try harder."

Eventually he had to give up his seat. There were so many people coming into the infirmary, they had to push the beds closer together to make room. But even then Ronon refused to give up his spot next to Teyla. For as long as she breathed, as long as there was _hope_, he wouldn't leave.

Standing there, waiting for whatever fate awaited them to come at last, Ronon came to a decision. He stepped forward until he was right alongside her gurney. Taking her hand in his again, he rested the opposite forearm on the pillow, just over her head. Placing his lips close to her ear, he whispered: "I know this isn't the right way to do this – and trust me, I had a much better plan for this. But – I'm just better at spontaneous – not that I don't mean this!" Briefly, he rested his forehead against the side of her head. "Oh, I'm totally messing this up, aren't I?"

Teyla continued to breathe steadily – in and out, in and out.

Ronon shot a nervous glance around, just to make sure there was no one around to hear or notice what he was doing. Refocusing his attention on Teyla, he tried to get it right this time. "I don't know if you can hear me or not, Teyla – I hope you can. I hope you're still in there somewhere, fighting. After I came here, to Atlantis – I thought I couldn't expect life to get better. I thought this was as good as it could get. But then – then _you_ made it better." Gently, he tangled his fingers in the dark bronze strands that had fallen out of the pins holding it back. "I don't know what the Athosian customs are for this – do you know how much I regret not asking before? – but, if you can hear me. . . _When_ you wake up, I want to know – will you marry me?"

For a breathless moment he expected a miracle. He expected Teyla to wake up: to open her eyes, look at him, to say yes. To be able to get up and go on with life like nothing had happened.

But it was as if she hadn't heard him. She continued to lay, limp and unresponsive.

A commotion at the entrance of the infirmary begged for his attention, but he couldn't look up until he could get a rein on his disappointment. For a moment he buried his face in Teyla's neck, calming his ragged breathing. Then he straightened and stepped back, carefully schooling his features to an impassive mask. But he wondered how convincing it really was.

Movement from his left caught his attention. He glanced in that direction, saw Sheppard, and turned back to Teyla. "How is she?" the colonel asked softly.

In his pants pockets, Ronon's hands clenched into fists. "Out of time," he said softly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his grief from his tone. He'd been watching the rise and fall of her chest get shallower; listening to the beeping of the heart monitor getting slower.

"I guess we all are." Sheppard turned to leave, but Ronon couldn't leave it at that. He wasn't beyond asking – begging, even, if that's what it came down to – if his team leader could save Teyla.

"Sheppard!" he called.

The colonel spun abruptly on his heels, eyebrows raised, eyes intense.

"You got a plan?" There was a word for what he was feeling now – _desperate_.

Sheppard's eyes flickered away, then back. "Sure," he said. It was uncertain, but it was something. The colonel darted off.

Ronon turned back to Teyla. Hopefully, whatever the plan was – the results would come soon.

_Soon_ came and went – or so it felt to Ronon. He was impatient – he always had been. He wanted results _now_, wanted Teyla to be better _now._

Beckett rushed past, halted, and came back. "Lad – what are you doing here?"

Ronon glared. He would think the reason would be obvious. "I'm here for Teyla."

Carson took two steps forward and lowered his voice. "Laddie – I know ye want to stay – but we need the room for more people comin' in." He stepped back, eyes sad.

Ronon wanted to argue. He wanted to throw something, to yell, to protest – to say with absolute certainty she _would_ be fine – if only he stayed. But he couldn't – and didn't. Instead, he went to kiss Teyla's forehead, squeezed her hand, then hollowly walked out the door. If not the infirmary, then the control room was the only logical place left for him to go. At least in the central core of activity, he would be able to keep track of Sheppard and his plan. He went directly there, hovering at Zelenka's shoulder. Now that he was away from Teyla, from the only way of knowing for sure she still lived, he began to grow aware of the throbbing directly behind his eyes.

The little Czech scientist kept up a running monologue, updating him every few seconds on what was happening. Ronon maintained a white-knuckled grip on the back of his chair, constantly afraid he would get a call over the radio from Carson, telling him Sheppard had been seconds too late. That Teyla was—

A startled cry burst through the speakers. For one horrible moment, he thought it was Beckett. Then he realized it was coming through the control room speakers – from the _Daedalus_, far above, protecting Atlantis from the sun.

"It worked!" Rodney's voice yelled. "It worked, it worked, we're not toast! How are things down there?!"

Zelenka started yelling in outbursts, partly in English and partly in what Ronon assumed was his native language. Very quietly, Ronon withdrew from the chaos in the control room. Whether Beckett kicked him out or not, he was determined to be there _when_ – not _if_, he refused to let it be _if_ – Teyla woke.

He hovered in the doorway, waiting until he made sure Beckett was out of the area. Then he had to wait for the nurse activity to die down. People were starting to wake up, though, which was good news. He felt the heavy weight in his chest begin to ease a little.

Ronon silently moved through the infirmary to Teyla's bed. His eyes immediately went to her face, which was still pale but seemed to have regained just a touch of her normal color. Though that might have been wishful thinking on his part. . . The heart monitor seemed to have picked up its rhythm a bit, which eased his mind. Though her breathing was still shallow, as he stood and watched it quicken a little.

Time passed sluggishly. Eventually he got his seat back; as more and more people left the infirmary, more room opened up. Sheppard and McKay dropped by; then Weir (briefly); then Beckett (with a very knowing look).

At last Ronon resigned himself to playing with Teyla's fingers again. Her hand was so much smaller than his; calloused from work but still so much gentler. At least this time she felt warmer – she'd been so cold the last time he touched her. . . He lifted her hand to his face so he could press a gentle kiss to her palm.

As if she'd been waiting for that action, Teyla's eyelids began to flutter. Her fingers twitched against his face, fingertips brushing his jaw.

"Teyla?" Ronon stood immediately, leaning over her anxiously. "Teyla, can you hear me?" He stroked strands of her hair away from her face. "Open your eyes and look at me, love. Please?"

Teyla obeyed. For the first time in what felt like _forever_ – as cliché as it seemed – her soft brown eyes looked at him. She smiled, bright and wide, and reached up to touch his face.

Then she said two words, and he knew she'd somehow managed to hear him through all those long, torturous hours.

"Yes, Ronon."

-End Part V-

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**Bellkie**: Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy this fic – I had a lot of fun writing it! Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**TubaPrincess**: I'm very glad you did! Actually, no – I didn't _actually_ write the conversation into the fic, but it is mentioned. Basically they talked the minute they could have time alone together on Atlantis after "The Hive." Well – there _was_ going to be one chapter left, but then I decided I wasn't happy where the fic was going to end, and I had another idea – so I wrote one more chapter. So there's still one part left after this. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Hannah554**: Thank you! It was the first time I'd ever written a scene like that (in "The Lost Boys"), so I was kind of nervous as to how it'd turn out. So thank you! And I'm glad you liked the awkwardness – I figured after something like that, no matter how they felt, there would still be some tension there. Thank you so much for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	6. Submersion

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairing, etc.

Part 6/6

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Part VI

_**-Submersion-**_

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He couldn't get comfortable. The unaccustomed feel of his sleeveless tee shirt twisted around his torso, hanging on the covers every time he shifted position, sticking to the bandages binding his cracked and bruised ribs, kept Ronon from crossing that last little distance between dozing and truly sleeping. That, and – other – physical discomforts. Maybe he _should_ have taken the icepacks Beckett had been so insistent about offering. But using them would, he felt, be a flagrant reminder to Teyla of _why_ he needed them; so he'd left them behind in the infirmary. Which was also why he was wearing the blasted tee shirt: to camouflage his strapped ribs. Clenching his back teeth together, he refused to yield to the urge to move just _one_ – more – time.

"I am sorry."

The whisper, so soft he wondered at first if he'd only imagined it, made Ronon drowsily open his eyes. When he'd first eased himself down onto the mattress, Teyla had already been curled into a little ball as far away from him as the bed allowed. At the time, he'd been too tired and, yes, hurting too badly to argue the point. Now, she was even farther away – seated on one of the chairs next to the balcony doors. "For what?" he asked, chagrinned that he hadn't even noticed her rising.

In the dim starlight falling through the tall windows of their quarters, her slender face looked drawn, her eyes dark, shadowed pools. "Since I am your wife, Carson was – quite frank – about your injuries. Injuries," her voice caught and nearly failed on the words, "he was unaware that _I_ caused."

"Huh? Oh." Inwardly cursing the good doctor for his big mouth, Ronon awkwardly sat up, unable to stifle a wince. "It – wasn't you." He shrugged, and the small finger-shaped bruises on his left shoulder added their protest to the overall chorus. "Anymore than it was you who raised the forcefields or shot those crystals to pieces. I wasn't going to mention it."

Teyla pulled her feet up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I did not think so." Resting her cheek on her knee, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders quivered; she abruptly rolled her head so her forehead now rested on her upthrust knees, hiding her face.

"Teyla, Teyla love." Ronon carefully shifted onto her side of the bed and eased his legs over the edge. How could he make her understand that, other than the Wraith Queen, the only other person he blamed for what had happened was himself? He'd noticed the subtle "off-ness" of her body language, but when she'd looked at him like that, started talking about how much she loved him, how much _they_ meant to her— He'd swallowed it. He'd kept his defenses lowered, and paid for it. Quite painfully. "It wasn't _you_."

"You saw _me_. It was _my_ hands, _my_ foot, _my_ knee— I cannot remember it, not really, but— I should have been able to stop her from using my body to hurt _you_, of all people. I – I was not strong enough. You will never be able to look at me again without remembering – what – I did. . ." Voice rising distraughtly, Teyla violently pushed to her feet and began to pace.

Ronon caught her wrist as she passed the bed, gently but forcibly drawing her down to sit on his knee. With his free hand against the side of her face, he made her look at him. "Let me be the judge of what I see when I look at you," he said, tenderly, fiercely. "And I'm telling you, Teyla, I see my _wife_, the woman I love, and _no one else!"_

She stared at him, her beautiful eyes suddenly brimming with tears, her lower lip quivering. Whispering again, she said, "I hurt you. It is _intolerable_ to me that she used _my_ body to hurt _you_. And I could not prevent her." Her head drooped, hair swinging forward to hide her face.

Ronon sighed, frustrated with himself for not being able to find the right words to comfort her. "Look, Teyla," he began, then broke off as he got an idea. "You want to go to the gym?" he asked.

His abrupt, off-the-wall question made her lift her head sharply and stare at him in confusion. "Why – would I want to go to the gym? It is four in the morning."

Ronon gave her a crooked smile. "You can beat me again sparring. You can whack me, kick me, do _whatever_, and you wouldn't feel guilty, right?"

Teyla tried to pull away from him, to get to her feet, but he easily prevented her. "That is different!" she protested. "We are playing then. Practicing. Our intent is not to hurt, not to cause lasting pain or inflict serious damage."

"Okay, it _is_ different. But my point is," he spoke slowly, thinking out what he wanted, what he needed her to see, "when you fight me there, we make decisions that affect the outcome of our fight, make it lean in your favor or mine. Down on that drilling platform, you made the decision to try to contact the mind of the Wraith you sensed, and I supported you! We both knew there was a risk that something could go wrong. I _chose_ to ignore the signs that something was – not right. And the consequences of that choice are mine alone."

Her eyes narrowed. "You are trying to make this _your_ fault. To make _me_ feel better."

His wife knew him_ far_ too well. "No, I'm not," he hedged. Ignoring her immanent protest, he took her face between both hands so he could kiss her forehead – brushed his lips down the line of her straight little nose to hers, quieting her. "Shh," he murmured against their soft warmth. "I don't blame you, and I don't want you blaming yourself."

Her breath sighed into his mouth, filling it with sweetness. Her slim, strong hands came up to caress his face and hair delicately, and he sensed the wistfulness in her touch. "It was unforgivable, what she did, but I am forewarned now. I will never allow it to happen again."

There: she'd finally used the third person to refer to what had happened. He knew she was beginning to come to terms with it. Relief spreading outward from his heart, Ronon kissed her again, more deeply this time, as his hands moved from her face to her shoulders. He brushed aside the thin straps of her camisole, carefully sinking back onto the bed, drawing her with him—

–Until a particularly vicious pain snatched his breath and his desire simultaneously away. For a brief moment, the darkness swam sickeningly around him. He tried to hold back a deep groan, but wasn't sure if he succeeded. _Okay, _not _a good idea. . . !_

"Ronon! Ronon, let me go, your ribs—" His arms dropped to the sides, fingers digging into the mattress, allowing Teyla to lever herself off him. "Your _lung_— Perhaps I should call Carson—"

He managed to catch her hand, cracking his eyes open at the same time. "No, not necessary," he gasped. "'M okay. Just – give me a minute. Please," he made his breathing even out, "go ahead and lie down, I'm all right, I promise you."

Still watching him worriedly, she did as he asked, settling onto her side. He wanted to curse himself when he saw the drawn look back on her face. Reaching out to smooth a hand over her hair, he whispered, "I love you. I will always love you, no matter what happens. Just," and he allowed his lips to kink ruefully, "not tonight. Probably not for a few nights."

Teyla's eyelids lifted as her lips rounded, so clearly at a loss for what to say that he couldn't hold back a chuckle. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he saw an answering gleam in their depths as she said, "I love you, too. For now and forever. And – and I thank you for relieving my mind. Will you do one more thing for me? Will you finally take one of the pain pills Carson gave you?" Her hand lifted to rest over his, her green marriage bracelet sparkling in the moonlight now slanting across their bed.

Freeing his hand so he could run a finger across the cool beads, Ronon thought of how far they'd come. From tentative acquaintances, to strong allies, to good friends. . . To true soulmates, with a love for each other that would never run out. And now that he knew she was no longer punishing herself over what had happened, "Sure," he agreed.

Beckett had promised the painkiller would put him "oot like the proverbial light," and he hadn't exaggerated. Not long after he swallowed the pill Teyla brought him, a buzzing swept though his head, carrying him into an irresistible dark. Nevertheless, whispered words worked their way into his dreams; and though he couldn't understand them, he knew they were nice things.

When he woke, feeling muzzy and still very, very sore, Teyla had curled herself into his side, one arm over his chest, lips against his jaw. _Maybe it will take a while, for both of us to put this completely behind us,_ he thought, tangling his hand in her soft hair. _But we'll get through it together._

Cherishing the preciousness of her presence, he allowed himself to drift on the fringes of sleep until she should wake, knowing the world was right again.

_**-The End-**_

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**Hannah554**: Thank you! I absolutely _love_ writing Ronon, so I am very glad to know you think I write him well! I very much hope you enjoy this final chapter, and thank you so much for all the reviews!

**Mistryja**: Thank you! It was originally going to be a 5 moment fic, but then I got the idea for _this_ chapter. . . And I had to make it into a six-moment fic. LOL I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the review!

**SpaceMonkey0941**: Thank you! I know, "Echoes" is my favorite _Atlantis_ episode to date! There was just so much _squee_!-ness in it. And, I figured – I couldn't write a five-moments-in-their-relationship-that-actually-turned-into-six-moments fic without "Echoes"! I hope you enjoy this final chapter, and thank you so much for all the reviews! -hugs-


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